


Skinning the Peach

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little monkish comfort</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinning the Peach

It is a beautiful warm spring night and Brother Amlodd’s heart feels as light and warm as the weather. Tomorrow there is to be a wedding and the sounds of roistering coming from the longhouse are loud and riotous. Always a cause for celebration when it involves two young people with such a promising future together. Brother Amlodd has seen the way the bride looks at the man she is to marry – a girl more deeply in love would be impossible to find. Yes, a very satisfying union to be solemnized on the morrow indeed.

Yet marriages sometimes make the good Brother contemplative too. He has never regretted the path his life has taken. The choice to be a monk was not forced on him – it was made freely and in the full knowledge, that by taking his vows, he was probably denying himself the comfort of a partner forever. But so be it. Some priests, he knows, have women and children tucked behind their huts and do so with impunity. However, Brother Amlodd has never seriously considered joining their ranks. He has dedicated himself to the service of the Christ of the One God and truthfully carries no real bitterness. Just sometimes – on balmy spring evenings like this – when he can smell the bluebells and the daffodils, then he grows a little wistful for more……………

Sighing, Brother Amlodd plods up to the small hut that is always made available to him when he visits the village. He has eaten his fill and drank plentiful mead tonight. Now he is ready to seek the comfort of his bed. It will be a long day tomorrow – a happy one, but nevertheless, he is getting no younger and he will need to be well-rested.

Then, as he approaches his hut, Brother Amlodd discerns a figure silhouetted against the stars. It is Abbot Morphett, leaning on his staff and starring benignly at the moon. “Brother Amlodd. Greetings. I hope it will not be a great inconvenience, but Llud has asked if it would be possible for me to share your humble dwelling tonight. It seems they are a little short of room with so many wedding guests to accommodate.” Abbot Morphett smiles benevolently from within his cowl.

Brother Amodd returns the smile. “Of course, my lord Abbot. It will be a pleasure to have your companionship. As you know, with the lives we lead, we are often short of company.” Abbot Morphett looks sympathetic. “Too true Brother. Fulfilling lives we have chosen yes, but often arduous, and as you so rightly say, often lonely.” His ancient voice seems to quaver. “And nights like this, spring nights with a wedding on the morrow, can sometimes make the loneliness a trifle hard to bear.”

Startled, Brother Amlodd sees that the Abbot’s faded eyes are glistening in the moonlight. So he is not the only one who feels this way from time to time…. He moves a little nearer to Abbot Morphett so that the sleeves of their robes surreptitiously brush against each other. “In fact” Abbot Morphett’s voice is barely a whisper now, so that Brother Amlodd has to lean in much closer to hear. “For many years the loneliness has almost broken my heart – and other things. All these long lonely days – just me and the donkey and occasionally a chicken…..” His hushed words die away into the starry night, expectant and hopeful.

From below them boisterous chants of “wine wine” resound from the longhouse and they hear the ring of a distinctive laugh that can only belong to Kai. Brother Amlodd realises that he is holding his breath – then he turns and slips his hand trustingly into the hand of Abbot Morphett that is not clutched around his staff for support. The Abbot’s skin is parchment-thin and warm. Brother Amlodd feels his hand being squeezed in welcome.

Fingers entwined, they shuffle into the hut and stand gazing at one another, in wonder and delight. Arthur is such a considerate host. There is a roaring fire, and piles of newly-bleached sheepskins and a generous flagon of adder’s sting all ready. With a delicious shiver, Brother Amlodd recalls the arousing tales he has heard concerning what an audacious scourger the good Abbot is. There was a certain tantalising analogy to fruit mentioned once by Llud – and Brother Amlodd’s bottom is certainly sprinkled with fine hairs and exactly the shape of an over-ripe peach……….


End file.
